<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>vulnerability is not poggers by crookedsaint</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27422923">vulnerability is not poggers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedsaint/pseuds/crookedsaint'>crookedsaint</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>hatsune miku memorial dlerby boots [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Blaseball (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Hatsune Miku Memorial Dlerby Boots, Lou Roseheart Loves Disco Change My Mind, M/M, Neurodivergent King Declan Suzanne, T for swears, They/Them Lou Roseheart, background rivers/dreamy, i legally can't tag this roller skating since they don't even skate, so this isn't technically tillman/mike/declan but it is in my heart</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:53:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,548</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27422923</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedsaint/pseuds/crookedsaint</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"He looked up to meet Tillman’s eyes and was shocked to actually see some emotion behind them. Shocked, also, to note on the way up that he was wearing Shadow the Hedgehog customs with matching toestops. But mostly the emotion."</p><p>Declan Suzanne did not want to go roller skating tonight. First of all, he didn't even know how. Unfortunately, he didn't get much of a choice in the matter.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Declan Suzanne/Mike Townsend but only if you squint, Tillman Henderson/Declan Suzanne, Tillman Henderson/Mike Townsend</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>hatsune miku memorial dlerby boots [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2020012</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>We Are Fanwork Creators</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>vulnerability is not poggers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>many thanks to @paopuleaf for infecting me with tilldec disease and to @tamsinb for the incredibly powerful concept that is tilldec...send? these garbage, garbage men live in my head rent-free and leave beer cans everywhere now.</p><p>even more thanks to my friends zo and ferrets for betaing this and by betaing i mean reading it while i slept in and cheering loudly upon my return to the land of the living. love yall!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> one of us is lonely </em>
</p><p>
  <em> one of us is only </em>
</p><p>
  <em> waiting for a call </em>
</p><p>     <em> -one of us, ABBA </em></p><p> </p><p>    Rivers Rosa wasn’t known for begging, but she looked inches away from kneeling and clasping her hands. “Please, Suzanne. I <em> cannot </em>attend a Fridays afterparty alone. You know I’m allergic to vibes that good. Not even you would be so cruel.”</p><p>    “Uh, I totally can be.” Declan averted his eyes, lacing his shoes with the laser-focus of someone who does not want to be having this conversation. “Listen, I said no. I don’t even know how to roller skate.”</p><p>    “That’s a fucking lie. You have fancy suede skates with <em> light up blue wheels. </em>”</p><p>    “Those are <em> collector’s items. </em> The Hatsune Miku Memorial Dlerby Boots are not for skating with.” He sighed and slipped his bag over his shoulder. “I’m headed out, Rosa. Good luck on your date.”</p><p>    “Suzanne that is the <em> entire reason I am inviting you. </em>” Sure, all he could see was the parking lot outside the locker room, but, deep in his heart, Declan could feel her glaring at him. “This cannot be a date.”</p><p>    “But you <em> like </em>Dreamy.”</p><p>    “Exactly. Which is why I need you, to put on those skates, and come with me, so I don’t get grilled to death by her entire team.” She caught his shoulder. “Please. You’re never gonna hear me say it again.”</p><p>    “Sure fuckin’ hope not. Nice words sound wrong coming out of your mouth.” He took the last step out of the locker room. “Goodnight, R—”</p><p>    “Roller skating?” </p><p>    He almost collided with Lou Roseheart, face glowing under the sodium lights. “Lou!”</p><p>    “Sorry, it’s just, I was waiting on my Uber, and I heard…” Lou locked eyes with Rivers. They gulped. “Uh, I heard absolutely nothing except the words <em> roller </em> and <em> skate </em>.”</p><p>    A grin spread across Rivers’ face. “You know what, Roseheart, you’re perfect.”</p><p>    “I do, in fact, know!”</p><p>    “Listen, I need help.” </p><p>    Declan held out an arm in front of her. Christ, it was too late for this. “Lou, don’t listen. She’s trying to get out of a date with Dreamy.”</p><p>    “She’s <em> what </em>?” Lou looked between the two of them.</p><p>    “I am <em> trying,” </em>Rivers snarled, “to escape the relentless hospitality of the Hawai’i Fridays.” </p><p>    Lou lit up. “Oh, right! Dreamy said she invited her whole team to your date. To, uh.” They held up their hands in an imitation of Dreamy’s significantly more graceful gestures. “‘Heal the vibes’ between you two, right?”</p><p>    “What does that even <em> mean. </em>” Declan pushed past them both. “I’m out! Have fun, you two!”</p><p>    “Come on, Declan, you never skate with me! It could be fun!” Lou hollered after him, even though he’d only had the time to take a few steps. “I’m never gonna pass my skills test like this.”</p><p>    “Hang on, she said it was a date?”</p><p>    “Lou,” he groaned.</p><p>    “Declan,” they groaned back.</p><p>    “A <em> date. </em> Those were her exact words, right? Or you are <em> dead to me </em>, Roseheart.”</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>    The Hatsune Miku Memorial Dlerby Boots and matching blue holographic wheels were no longer mint condition. </p><p>    Declan’s laces were, unfortunately, tied, so he was forced to look up to where Lou was waiting for him. “So, you’re trying out for dlerby… <em> during </em>blaseball season?”</p><p>    “It’s blaseball season right <em> now </em>, sure. But [EXPUNGED] years ago, in the Chicago a little to the left, it was dlerby season. Simple time travel.” They smiled.</p><p>    “How did you do that with your mouth.”</p><p>    “Smiling’s actually pretty easy when you’re not a total misanthrope.” They offered him a hand up from the metal picnic table he was seated at. It was, to his complete disgust, sticky, like every surface at the rink. Somehow, they’d even managed to make the plain wooden slats of the rink itself feel sticky on his <em> very expensive </em>wheels. </p><p>    “No, no I need a minute to warm up.” <em> To take it all in. </em>Stickiness was one thing. The Firehouse had a similar issue. Declan wasn’t honestly sure they’d ever cleaned the microwave. But the lights, and the throbbing funk music alternating with hazy late-seventies discopop… “I’ve never skated before.”</p><p>    Lou’s face fell. “How come you own such nice skates, then? Those aren’t for beginners.”</p><p>    “I’m starting to ask myself that, yeah.” He mustered a smile, just to prove them wrong. “Listen, go have fun. Save Rivers from herself.”</p><p>    “Yeah, yeah. I’ll go hang out with the Fridays, try not to get my ass kicked by Nagomi McDaniel at roller disco. Sure.” They started off. “Seriously, how is she so good at <em> everything? </em>”</p><p>    Declan let his head fall into his hands. First the concert last week and now… this. Sure, he could tell someone on the team that his skin felt like divorcing his body when music played too loud, but that would involve vulnerability, and as he’s said many times before: vulnerability is <em> not poggers.  </em></p><p>    He had to be fair, though, the concert wasn’t nearly as bad. He had earplugs. He had his jacket on, instead of a flared jumpsuit Lou had insisted was all the rage in the actual seventies. He had the whole team there, and they created a buffer zone between him and—</p><p>    Mike <em> fucking </em>Townsend. Declan knew it wasn’t cool to hate him anymore, or whatever, but. Okay, so maybe it was less Mike Fucking Townsend and more the fact that at the end of his (admittedly baller) set, he’d practically fallen into the arms of—</p><p>    Tillman. <em> Fucking. </em> Henderson. Tillman Henderson, the self-same son of a bitch who <em> still </em>hadn’t called him.</p><p>    The same self-same son of a bitch who, he realized much too late, was ordering a pizza at the snack hut with Howell Franklin. Right in front of him. </p><p>    Declan whipped out his phone. It was too late.</p><p>    “Suzanne! You crazy bastard, how’s it goin’?” Franklin slapped him on the back. </p><p>    “Oh—ouch! Uh, super great. Literally perfect. I would change nothing about my evening. You’ve all been lovely, goodnight.” Tillman was staring straight through him. He was wearing a crop top and vest, which might be the world’s least practical clothing combination. “What brings you here, uh, travelers?”</p><p>    “Oh, you know.” Franklin swept a huge, furry arm at the rink. “People to see. Shoes to steal.”</p><p>    “Totally, totally.” Tillman was staring right <em> at </em> him, actually, and he <em> really </em>wished he had his jacket on, because he was feeling way more naked than a very heterosexual bro should feel in front of his sort-of-ex—</p><p>    “So you’re here with Roseheart, right?”</p><p>    “Yeah! Yeah.” He looked away, hoping that Franklin had, in a classic move, started untying his laces. Nothing ever turned out that well for Declan, though. “How’d you know?”</p><p>    “The, well.” He gestured at the jumpsuit. “Two people wearing the exact same shade of bright Wimdy City Rollers orange? At one skate night? Pretty embarrassing for you if it wasn’t intentional, dude.”</p><p>    “Right! Right.”</p><p>    “I’m gonna, uh.” Franklin looked around. “Leave you and your double affirmatives alone. And go wait for our pizza.”</p><p>    “Sure! Sure. Thanks.”</p><p>    “Have a good one, man!”</p><p>    Words had deserted him. Those slippery bastards. Declan took a breath in. And then a breath out. The place where Howell Franklin used to be was a good a place to look as any, right? Closing his eyes would be weird. Yeah, super weird. Let’s not do that. Except the lights didn’t stop changing colors, and not in that nice, smooth RGB keyboard way. Plus, the sound of skates on hardwood was like, really sharp. And loud. And it’s not like he actually cared what Tillman—</p><p>    “I fucking hate Chicago, man.”</p><p>    “Took the words right out of my mouth.” Keep looking. Keep not looking.</p><p>    “Like, even your pizza sucks. The guy asked me, you want toppings? And I was like yeah, you got pesto? And he fuckin’ laughed at me.”</p><p>    “They’ll do that.” If you ignore him long enough, he’ll go away, just like the rest of your problems.</p><p>    “How do you even eat that garbage?”</p><p>    “I don’t.”</p><p>    “What?” He could <em> hear </em>the sneer. God, since when could he hear it?</p><p>    “I’m lactose intolerant.”</p><p>    “I saw you eat twenty-five distinct pizza bagels at a party once.”</p><p>    “I make bad choices.”</p><p>    “I’ll say.”</p><p>    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Declan snapped, and he did regret it, but not as much as he was probably supposed to. Better commit to it before it looks like he has feelings. “You’re coming for <em> my </em>impulse decisions, Tillman ‘kisses Mike Townsend onstage in front of everyone in the league’ Henderson?”</p><p>    Oh no.</p><p>    “First of all.”</p><p>    Too much commitment. Too much! Back up!</p><p>    “First of all, Suzanne,” he said, “I am not Mike Townsend intolerant. I am the opposite of Mike Townsend intolerant, because he somehow got all goth and sexy when he was in the Shadows and then he played a really baller set with his really baller band. And he did flirt with me. And like, I have a reputation to maintain, right?”</p><p>    “Is that your thing now? Goths?” Boy, this carpet was interesting. Triangles. Circles. Weird little squiggles. Super bright.</p><p>    “Second of all,” he continued, tone still measured, “What are you, some kind of homophobe? Love wins, Suzanne. Love wins me so many blaseball games.”</p><p>    “Uh huh.”</p><p>    “So many.”</p><p>    Listen, it’s not like he came here explicitly to have a bad time. But, as they say, when at a 1970s skate night, live your favorite ABBA song in real time because you have no self-control. “So you’re so busy winning blaseball games with the Thieves and your super sexy goth boyfriend that you couldn’t find twenty minutes out of your day to call me and tell me you were okay.” </p><p>“You saw me on TV. Don’t tell me you didn’t even tune in to see my big interview.”</p><p>“Don’t be like that.”</p><p>“Be like what, huh? I’m here now. Talk to me, if you’ve got so much to say.”</p><p>    He looked up to meet Tillman’s eyes and was shocked to actually see some emotion behind them. Shocked, also, to note on the way up that he was wearing Shadow the Hedgehog customs with matching toestops. But mostly the emotion. </p><p>    “Come on, Suzanne. What is it? Must be pretty cringe,” he sneered, and now Declan could actually see it, and he felt a something twist under his ribs, “if the first time you saw me you ran away. Like, physically. On those spindly-ass legs of yours.”</p><p>    “The first time I saw you.” Declan scoffed, and he just had to <em> watch </em> as Tillman ran a hand through his hair, tight and anxious, but really showing off how good his conditioner must—snap out of it, Suzanne. “The first time I saw you—you know what, if that’s what this is about, I’m just gonna go. I’m going to get up off this bench and skate out of here. Cause all I wanted to say to you is that—” His voice broke, like some kind of gaylord.</p><p>    “What?” Tillman spat.</p><p>    “—that I missed you.” Way to go, Declan. “And I wanted to know if you were actually okay, or if you were just <em> acting </em> like it ‘cause right after you came back you started flirting with someone and I mean, I’m the guy who knows you only do that kinda shit when you’re in a bad way. Like, after the third time you came over right after we wrecked your asses when you were with the Crabs—and them ascending without you and all—”</p><p>    “Oh, because you know me so well.”</p><p>    “Yes! Yes, I do, that’s the point, and then you wouldn’t talk to me, and now I’m here at this miserable fucking colors dungeon and my head hurts and everything smells a little bit like peanuts which is, like, not something I need right now, and Lou left me all alone because they’re fun and I’m not—”</p><p>    “This is…” Tillman sighed. “If this is all about your self-loathing schtick, <em> I’m </em>going to skate out of here. And I don’t even know how to skate. These are—”</p><p>    “—collector’s items?” </p><p>    “...Yeah, actually.” He collapsed, unceremoniously, onto the bench next to Declan. “You noticed?”</p><p>    “Of course I noticed. He’s my third-favorite Sonic character.”</p><p>    “<em> Third? </em>”</p><p>    “Obviously Sonic comes first.”</p><p>    “Sonic is a little bitch.”</p><p>    “Okay, well, what about Tails? Everyone likes Tails.”</p><p>    “Those are the <em> lamest </em> top two Sonic characters you could have possibly named, holy <em> shit. </em>”</p><p>    The music almost faded from the background as they fell into something approaching predictable banter. Eventually, Tillman’s head fell to the side, happening to rest on Declan’s shoulder. Declan’s neck started to get tired, and it’s not like he wasn’t secure in his masculinity or anything. So, even more eventually… he rested his head on Tillman’s.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>    “I’m sorry about Mike, dude. Like, for real.”</p><p>    Tillman stiffened, his phone slipping out of his hand a little. “You’re sorry.”</p><p>    “Yeah. I mean, it must kind of suck. Like, you pull the new fan-favorite pitcher who also got inexplicably sexier on account of not getting any sun. And like, you spend a fun couple days together. And then he vanishes.”</p><p>    Declan felt Tillman’s shoulders rise and fall against his own. If there was some kind of intent behind it, he didn’t know what it was. But it sure felt intentional. “Yeah. He vanishes.”</p><p>    “But I mean, it’s all good, right? He just can’t play blaseball. That’s all it says in the contract.”</p><p>    He snorted. “You read your contract?”</p><p>    Declan snorted back. “I have insomnia, Tilly. What, you’ve never gone on a Terms and Conditions bender?”</p><p>    It wasn’t silent after that, but the rink was definitely cooling down. Most of the Fridays had left the floor, digging into Chicago’s signature pizza instead. There were a few more Shoe Thieves executing some elaborate heist in the back room. Lou, Rivers, and Dreamy were still skating, along with a few NPCs. People who didn’t play blaseball had just started to blend together, at a certain point. Literally. He could make out some neon colors and shapes, sure, but—</p><p>    “You know how they make sure he can’t play blaseball?”</p><p>    “No.”</p><p>    “He’s incorporeal.”</p><p>    “What?”</p><p>    “Intangible? Phantasmal? You know.”  He let out a breath. “You can see, but you can’t touch.”   </p><p>    “Fucked up.”</p><p>    “Yeah, Declan, it is.”</p><p>    “Didn’t say anything about that in the news.”</p><p>    “Why the hell would they? Not like they care about any of us. When we’re not playing.”</p><p>    The music had faded in an decidedly less-70’s direction. Some Garages ballad off their new album was crooning out of the speakers, beckoning everyone towards the concessions stands<em> . </em>It was… better. Still not great. But the music was quiet, and Tillman was weirdly warm. Which he should have expected, but it’s not like—</p><p>    “This is why I don’t fucking date, you know? Can’t get broken up with if you never date the motherfucker in the first place.” Tillman reached up to tug at the collar of his top. “Foolproof methods.” Declan let his gaze fall, just enough to see his hand shaking.</p><p>    “You were like.”</p><p>    “Yeah.”</p><p>    “Like, actually?”</p><p>    “I mean.”</p><p>    “After we—”</p><p>    “I know.”</p><p>    “But I never—”</p><p>    “Oh, don’t rub it in.”</p><p>    “Wh—” Declan fussed with the belt loop on his jumpsuit, trying to keep his voice low and even. “Rub what in?”</p><p>    “I don’t know, Suzanne. You tell me!” he growled. “That you ‘missed me.’” He was doing <em> air quotes, </em> that <em> bitch. </em>“But like, not enough to call me. Cause you’re a little bitch and a coward.”</p><p>    “Tilly. <em> Dude. </em> What do you say to the guy who just came back from the dead?” Declan straightened up, pulling out his phone. He mimed texting. “You up? Ahaha, you’re so sexy when you rise from the grave? Heyyy, lemme get in on the goth-ass action between you and your disappearing boyfriend?” He dropped his phone into his lap. “You hate being asked if you’re okay.”<br/>    Tillman stared at him. </p><p>    Declan stared at his skates.</p><p>    The cold, uncaring eyes of Hatsune Miku stared back.</p><p>    “Okay, maybe you know me pretty well.”</p><p>    “Yeah maybe I fucking <em> do. </em>” Declan clenched a piece of the suddenly hellish orange polyester in his fist. “So he broke up with you?”</p><p>    “Yeah.”</p><p>    “You didn’t call then, either.”</p><p>    “Didn’t want your fucking pity.”</p><p>    “I was pissed at you.”</p><p>    “You’re still pissed at me.”</p><p>    “I’m still pissed at you.”</p><p>    And then Tillman grabbed his hand, the one bent on destroying Lou’s outfit. And he held  it. Tight, like he was afraid to let go.</p><p>    Declan looked up. “Bro.” </p><p>    “Bro.” Tillman looked away.</p><p>    “So like how am I supposed to feel about th—”</p><p>    “Shut up.” Tillman loosened his grip. “I missed this,” he muttered, like if no one could hear it, it didn’t count. “All this fucking gay shit. Kinda slapped.”</p><p>    Declan couldn’t help himself. “You didn’t miss <em> me </em>, though?” </p><p>    Tillman groaned. “Okay, fine. I kinda <em> fucking </em> missed you too.” He pitched his voice low again. “But it’s not like I got with Townsend cause of that. It was—”</p><p>    “—the guitar solo?”</p><p>    “Holy shit dude, yeah.”</p><p>    Declan leaned back onto the table. “How does he fucking do that. Like for real.”</p><p>    “He just like, gets possessed by some kind of confident sexy person and goes ham. It’s crazy.”</p><p>    “Crazy. Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>    So like, it was a pretty bad idea.</p><p>    Declan knew it was a bad idea. Rivers had explicitly told him it was a bad idea. Rivers didn’t have a leg to stand on, though, because then she’d have to drop off Dreamy back at her shitty hotel, and she liked Dreamy more than she hated Declan. And besides, Lou was all for it. They were gonna go out clubbing with their shadow after, anyway, so it’s not like he’d be bothering them.</p><p>    So Tillman was in his room. Drinking his shitty beer. His roller skates, laced tied together, were draped over the coat hook next to his vest. Which meant.</p><p>    What did it mean?</p><p>    “This is shitty beer.”</p><p>    “That’s your favorite beer.” Declan shucked off his jumpsuit, grateful for the relief. “Don’t look, I’m changing.”</p><p>    “Ew, why would I.”</p><p>    “Cause you’re a homo.”</p><p>    “Yeah, okay.”</p><p>    He reached for a pair of jorts and an old con sweatshirt. If he was going to have an uncomfortable conversation, he was going to have it comfortably. His hand hovered over the jacket for a moment before grabbing it. More layers meant more comfort, right? He didn’t have to look hot. Who would he be looking hot for?</p><p>    “I’m pretty sure this isn’t my favorite beer.”</p><p>    Declan turned around, pulling the jacket on over the sweatshirt. “Dude, it’s still in my fridge from when you were alive the last time.”</p><p>    “Oh.” Long enough for another sip, and then: “So I’m pretty sure the food in Charleston isn’t actually terrible and everything just tastes like ash now.”</p><p>    “Fucked up if true.” He flopped down onto the couch. “Wanna play Smash?”</p><p>    Tillman paused. “Honestly? It’s just not the same anymore.”</p><p>    “What?”</p><p>    “Of course I want to play Smash. I’m gonna kick your ass.”</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>    “How come you have a Wii now, anyway?”</p><p>    “They threw my Xbox in Lake Michigan.”</p><p>    “Which one?”</p><p>    “Dunno. Haven’t found it yet.”</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>    “We didn’t even get to skate.”</p><p>    Declan stared at the ceiling. “We don’t know how to skate.”</p><p>    “We could have learned.” When Tillman talks, his whole chest hums a little where it’s pressed up against Declan’s side. On account of his head is basically in Declan’s lap.</p><p>    Which is why he’s staring at the ceiling. “Yeah, but we’d be super fucking bad at it.”</p><p>    “Duh. That’s why you do it. Like, you go with someone who’s good at skating, so when you fall over they give you a hand off the ground and you say ‘thanks, how can I ever repay you?’ and then you fall in love like in Whip It.”</p><p>    “Himbo four himbo.”</p><p>    “How did you enunciate that four.”</p><p>    “It’s a gift.”</p><p>    “I don’t think Whip It was a romance.”</p><p>    “Shoulda been.”</p><p>    Tillman was—holy shit, Tillman had started playing with the strings of Declan’s sweatshirt. Twisting them together, like he used to do with Declan’s hair in the morning after he brushed it just to piss him off. The look on his face—<em> look away, </em>Declan.</p><p>    “I wasn’t kidding when I said I missed this.”</p><p>    “Damn.” Declan let out a low whistle. “I didn’t know you were capable of not kidding.”</p><p>    “Shut up, bitch, I’m being genuine.”</p><p>    “Whatever.” He really wished he’d put, like, those glow in the dark stars on the ceiling or something. It was incredibly boring, especially in only the light of the TV. Which, he noted, was still playing the Brawl menu theme. Just really quietly.</p><p>    “I think I might be kind of fucked up about touch now.”</p><p>    “I mean.”</p><p>    “Yeah.”</p><p>    “Yeah.”</p><p>    Tentatively, Declan ran his hand through Tillman’s hair. He hazarded a glance, checking in—</p><p>    Tillman’s eyes were closed. “Like, it’s one thing for your boyfriend to go ghost on you. But then he’s all, hey, we shouldn’t talk anymore. And you’re like, why? ‘Cause you’re a normal person, right?”</p><p>    “Right.” He hesitated, and then. “Can I braid your hair?”</p><p>    “Sure. But he’s not <em> normal, </em>right? He’s some kind of hero. So he’s like, your character arc hasn’t been fulfilled, Tillman!”</p><p>    “Mhm.” His hair really was as soft as it looked.</p><p>    “And I was all, what the fuck do you mean my character arc? And he starts lecturing me about how I need to learn to deal with loss. Like we don’t <em> all </em>need to learn to deal with loss.”</p><p>    “Let me know if I pull too hard.”</p><p>    “Okay. And he thinks just cause he’s confident or whatever now he can break up with me? With me! Tillman Henderson! Voted Crab Most Likely To Break Your Heart Without Even Dating You!”</p><p>    “Oh, pog. Nagomi didn’t win that one?”</p><p>    “Oh, there was totally some ballot stuffing. But the worst part is, I go to—” He cuts himself off.</p><p>    “To… oh.”</p><p>    “Yeah.”</p><p>    “Sometimes…” Declan tugged another strand into the braid, and Tillman screwed his eyes shut even tighter.</p><p>    “Oh, sorry.”</p><p>    “No, it’s.” He sighed. “I’m just kind of a handsy bastard.”</p><p>    Declan snorted. “Ell Em Ay Oh.”</p><p>    “Yeah, exactly. So then Franklin’s all, you know what’ll cheer up my teammate who’s godawful at stealing shoes? A huge shoe heist.” He fell quiet for a moment. “And we were already in town, so.”</p><p>    “So now you’re here.”</p><p>    “Yeah.”</p><p>    “Roll over, I wanna do the other side.”</p><p>    He did. His cheek was warm against Declan’s wrist as he started a new braid. </p><p>    Declan frowned. “So he broke up with you because he wanted to make you feel bad?”</p><p>    Tillman sighed again, and this time, he could feel the breath tickle the inside of his forearm. “See, I really wanted to think that, but like. The guy’s too mild to be that malicious.” A deep breath. “I don’t know if he was being malicious like, at all. That’s the thing. He was being nice.”</p><p>    “Okay, I don’t see how breaking up with you is nice. Generally regarded as a dick move.”</p><p>    “No, like, he explained it in a weird way, but.” Another deep breath. “I feel like I get it now.  He didn’t want me kinda dating him and kinda not dating him at the same time. Losing him but not… all the way?”</p><p>    “Explain like I’m five.”</p><p>    “I mean, I lost the crabs. But Dreamy and Nagomi and Monty are still technically here, even if I never see them, right?”</p><p>    “Dreamy was there tonight.”</p><p>    “Fuck, really?” He chuckled. “Damn, okay. But like, that’s the thing. We keep missing each other. And I almost miss Dreamy worse than, like, all the others, cause she’d be down for brunch or some other fuckin’ lesbian activity. I’d be like hey, do you want to watch Great British Bakeoff? And she’d one-hundo-percent come.”</p><p>    “But you haven’t called her?”</p><p>    “Yeah.” Tillman shifted, sprawling out over even more of the couch. “Cause like, they’re all there. But they’re not <em> here </em>anymore.”</p><p>    “You know, I think Mike Townsend might actually be smart.”</p><p>    “Don’t go there. He can’t be smart and sexy.”</p><p>    “Yeah, like, when did any of this happen?” Declan twisted the second hair tie onto the end of the braid. “You didn’t come back any smarter.”</p><p>    Tillman was uncharacteristically silent for a moment. “You’re right. I didn’t.”</p><p>    And then Tillman was kissing him, and Declan was kissing him back, and he was more confused that he’d been all night and that was <em> saying </em> something but it was <em> nice </em> and it was <em> soft </em> and it was <em> Tilly </em>—</p><p>    “Stop thinking, I can hear it from here.”</p><p>    “Okay.”</p><p>    At least, later, Declan would have an excuse. He <em> hadn’t </em> been thinking. But maybe he shouldn’t take Tillman’s advice on thinking, because soon the jacket was on the floor and Tilly was shirtless and if he paused for a moment, which he unfortunately did, he <em> knew </em>where this was going. And like, on any other day. </p><p>    “Shit, uh. Did I misread things?” Tillman looked up at him, breathing a little too quick for it to not be weird. “I feel like I set that up pretty well. Uh. I don’t want you to be only kinda dating you anymore.”</p><p>    “Me neither,” Declan said. He suddenly didn’t know where his hands were supposed to be. “But also.”</p><p>    “Also.”</p><p>    “Also. I’m like, already super overwhelmed. The roller rink was a little… a lot. And I still have trouble with that. Which I know is cringe, but—”</p><p>    “Bro, you posted cringe. But you’re not gonna lose subscriber, man.” Tillman grinned. “It’s cool.”</p><p>    “Cool.” Declan sat back, pressing his back into the corner of the couch. “Sorry.”</p><p>    “Nah, nah. Don’t want this to look gay to the viewers, anyway.”</p><p>    “Can’t have that.” He reached an arm out to Tillman.</p><p>    He accepted, tucking himself under it and settling into Declan’s side. “We should turn off the TV.”</p><p>    “Since when are you responsible or whatever?”</p><p>    “Since I really want to stop hearing the menu music.”</p><p>    “Shit. yeah.”</p><p>    Declan found the remote between the cushions and switched it off. The room was dark, save for the like from the streetlamps outside. </p><p>    “This is still really nice.” Tillman was quiet again. “Like, not that I only want you for your body, but also I kind of only want your body right now. Kind of don’t care what you’re doing with it.”</p><p>    “Oh, pog. Okay.” He looked down at Tillman. “This is the part where I do something weird and fucked up with my joints and you act grossed out by it but really you’re just turned on. But like. I’m really tired. Can you just pretend?”</p><p>    “I hate you with every fiber of my being.” </p><p>    “Hell yeah, super believable Tilly line.”</p><p>    “What if I got back with Townsend. What then, bitch.”</p><p>    “I mean, it’s not like I care.” Declan paused. “Except like, not sure why you’d want a ghost boyfriend.”</p><p>    “Everybody wants a ghost boyfriend.”</p><p>    “They don’t even have bodies to only want them for!”</p><p>    “That’s… the point.” Tillman yawned, leaning farther back into Declan’s arms. “‘S romantic.”</p><p>    “Sure. Or you just want goth cred.”</p><p>    “I’m not even goth, Suzanne."</p><p>    “I choose to live in a world where you’re just really bad at it.”</p><p>    “You got a thing for incompetence?"</p><p>    “Do <em> you? </em> "<br/><br/></p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>    So maybe it was a <em> terrible </em> idea.</p><p>    That had never stopped either of them before.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>